Lokiah
by Ruul Mevenoch
Summary: Cruel fate denied me my given destiny. I was forsaken. And so I would make my own fate as a rogue power. What else was left to me? I can only promise that I will not go silently.
1. Chapter 1

**Setting: **Immediately following "Quest of the Skeleton Warrior."

**Note:** I pronounce Lokiah as loh-KYE-ah, in case anyone wondered.

**LOKIAH**

**by**

**Ruul Mevenoch**

Chapter I

Lokiah

It must have been like being born. Darkness yielded to light. My body was forced, headforemost, into the unforgiving world. My senses came alive — overmuch, I think — and demanded every fiber of my being pay painful attention to its compulsory exposure to the elements. I flailed about in my nakedness with no such birth cord to ease my transition. And I did scream like a newborn babe upon drawing first breath.

I possessed no control of myself in those first moments. (I say moments, but how long I did lie there I could not say.) I thrashed about like a wild thing, like something chewed and then spat upon the ground when the taste could no longer be tolerated. I convulsed against the feel of mere air passing over my bare flesh, along my ears, and through my long hair. The moonlight was overbright to me, but I had not the ability to cover my eyes. Not even my mortal birth had left me as utterly vulnerable.

Finally, I stilled, exhausted, and stared fixedly up into the brightening sky. The stars faded from view, and I was soon warmed with the rising of the first orb of day. How many rose in this realm? Three? Four? I'd forgotten.

My first conscious thought, upon realizing I was capable of such, was of the one who had lured me into the circle of erected stones and imprisoned me within, and within again. Clever boy, that one. Not my nemesis, no, but his son! Not yet a man was he, still drudging in his father's shadow. I had underestimated the boy; I had not imagined him a viable threat. Yet he turned my own artifices against me! He was more knowledgeable and adept than I had fathomed. I quickly saw that I was wrong to have discounted him. A grave misjudgment on my part, to be sure. And I have never been one to deny such lapses. There is nothing to be learned from denial.

Even so, I knew, in the end, that no prison of the child's design could hold me. Not forever. He was not his father. And now I, Lokiah, had prevailed.

But how had I?

I did not know how long was my imprisonment, out of time and out of place, in the confines of the crushing blackness within that damnable stone circle. Time was immeasurable, or perhaps only my mind found it so, for true form of thought was as elusive as consciousness within the void. But then, right before the end of my imprisonment, there had been turmoil in the womb I slumbered in. There was nothing until there was . . . something.

How to describe it? I had not words. All I knew was that I had not acted to free myself; my freedom was, regrettably, not a result of any songworthy struggle of mine toward that end.

As daunting as it was, I closed my eyes and concentrated, placing myself back inside the prison from which I had only just emerged. I was determined to understand my circumstances, to take nothing for granted. I would explore my condition from the inside to the out. If this proved to be a momentous occasion aided by any powers unbeknownst to me, I did not wish to diminish it — whether or not there was anyone else present to share in the moment. I did, at least, have some presence of mind.

And so I invoked any memory that would answer and found I could remember — albeit vaguely — the change in the nature of my dungeon — if it could be so called, for I never perceived any tangible border. But on the very edges of that perception, I thought I felt . . . a thinning of the veil, so to speak. And as it did so, I had felt my strength waxing.

I opened my eyes. It was time to test that strength.

I rose, trembling, to my feet. I felt too tall. I flexed an arm, testing my muscles. I eased my neck back and then around to rest my chin against my chest. Slowly, I raised my head and inhaled deeply. I squinted and blinked, troubled that everything light touched seemed to be surrounded by a hazy halo. By will alone, I forced my eyes to focus and was rewarded with their return to a dragon's acuity.

I looked about myself then and saw the timeworn stones surrounding me. The erosion of the pillars and lintels bespoke the passage of such a staggering amount of time as to give me pause. I suddenly felt the desolation of the place, and it occurred to me that I may now be the only living being in the whole of the Realm! I had no real reason to believe this, of course. Still, I looked, and I listened. And as I touched a long-standing pillar to steady myself as I moved toward the edge of the cliff to peer down, I felt a sharpness that caught my attention.

A shard of stone had, I thought, simply fallen away — and most recently, at that. But, upon inspection, there was no shard to correspond. I discovered instead a scattering of rocks, recently settled dust, and. . . .

I now berated myself, for I had so far ignored my keen sense of scent! There was indeed the smell of something burnt — and by magically summoned energies, I was sure! I stumbled amongst the rocky debris with my nose either in the air or along blackened stone like a starved death hound hoping for a crumb or smear of blood to lick.

Yes, there must have been a considerable battle! And I deduced that it must have been this powerful engagement that had upset the magic of the circle's binding! Enough of the circle must have finally been destroyed in the exchange of fire to break the bonds of my confinement and facilitate my release!

An accident. Nothing grander. An act of nature having accomplished the same would have been more welcoming. But, no, the Realm had kept me locked away. I did not want to think how much longer my imprisonment might have been had not this most fortunate event played out during the night.

So, no one had set to the purpose of freeing me. Or had they? I had to wonder what manner of creatures had battled here. On the ground were scorchings that could only have come from above. Tiamat, then? The dragon queen was no friend to me, and I could easily imagine her acting to prevent my freedom. Had one indeed come, then, to make such an attempt in my behalf? If so, might this being have survived the ordeal? Might there be others, like-minded, who venerate me still, though so long has been my absence?

No, there was no evidence to suggest my prideful assertions, so I cast them aside and accepted only the obvious. To have done otherwise would have been foolhardy. And I am hardly a fool.

Yet, I could not help but wonder. . . . Could my name still be known after so long? But then, who could forget me? To those who wisely chose to follow me, my name was a rallying cry, a killing word likely forbidden to be spoken aloud even after so many, many years.

I don't mind admitting to a certain measure of arrogance. It's always been a part of my nature. Yes, I hoped my name was still known and feared throughout this Realm, as it should be. For I am Lokiah, The Chaos Bringer, a favored servant of The Great One. What did they call him here? Ah, yes. He Whose Name Cannot Be Spoken.

But, of course, it _can _be spoken. Well, fragments of it can. To that, I can attest. And, as I understand such things, it sounds different from each being who dares to speak it. But I mustn't say any more about this, and you didn't hear it from me.

And now it was time to leave this place. I had much to learn about the realm of this era. I had lived in many times and in many realms, and experience had told me of the inevitability of change. I wondered what I would find. Did my old adversary, the Dungeon Master, live still? And what of the boy? If the long-lived old man was outside of my vengeance, perhaps the son was not.

With these thoughts taking shape in my mind, I walked the length of the winding laneway, now able to enjoy the feel of the wind that brushed my loins. However, as I walked, I had the nagging feeling that something was missing — other than my garb, that is.

When the answer came to me, I tossed my head back in echoing laughter. Of course! How could I have forgotten?

Just as I had my newfound freedom, another would soon have his, if I had any say in the matter. No man should have to walk the realms alone.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II

Wraith

The sandy bottom of the laneway had been littered with footprints of various sizes — a set of smallish hoofprints, as well. The most recent signs were of many leaving the place. Survivors? I went their way, thinking it likely that they might know in which direction lay civilization. I also meant to learn whether or not they intended my release.

So, for two days, I did walk the Realm alone, searching for some sign of useful life. So barren. . . . Where was everyone and everything? I tired of these dry, dusty dunes and dead trees. Even the sky was empty — clear but empty. Was this or was this not a realm of dragons? This did not speak well of the Dungeon Master. It was, however, quite encouraging to my mind. But then again, a lifeless realm would hold little amusement for me.

Ah! Which to favor? A dying realm that reflected a weakening of its Dungeon Master (the fact that the Realm was still here at all was proof that there, at least, was one)? Or a thriving realm in which to merrily put my talents to work?

I sat on a petrified stump between two sandy dunes, still contemplating my predicament.

It was not long before I caught sight of my unfortunate old merchant, with his horse and cart, and all such thoughts were forgotten. I smiled.

He could not yet see me. The distance was much too great for his aged eyes. But I could see him. I waited patiently, taking note of his styles of both clothing and transportation with mounting disappointment. He must have been in desperate straits to willingly venture across this wasteland with his wares.

Oh, how little this realm had changed! It appeared to remain much as I had left it! I began to see how much the people must need me! My return would be their bountiful blessing! I knew I must be the catalyst! If this man were any example of how the Realm now stands, then I must bring the Realm into a new era — an event certainly long overdue! It was what I had always been meant to do. Perhaps the Dungeon Master's hold on the Realm was weakening the same as my prison had weakened enough to loose me. Perhaps my time had, at last, come.

I get ahead of myself. Too often. I would first need a costume befitting my chosen status of Savior of the Realm, I realized — for I was, as yet, unclothed.

You were wondering about that, weren't you?

Of course you were.

Taking a cue from my man's peasant dress, I fashioned a set of clothes that satisfied both current fashion and personal pride. I flared my hands before me, and upon my arms came the beginnings of a regal suit of black and royal purple, which I'd always favored, in the medieval style that this realm had apparently not yet passed.

Well, perhaps the cape was a bit much. I removed it with a flourish, throwing up a thick cloud of dust. A wind happened through and carried the cloud into the face of my fated one. I heard a sneeze and peered around to see the most amusing sequence of events.

The old man sneezed again. Such a sneeze was it that he jerked the reigns to one side. The horse's neck went back, its front legs crossed, and then down the exhausted beast went. The driver was thrown from his seat, his neck breaking upon impact, and he was then trodden on by the horse as it struggled to right itself.

My doing, of course. Not one of my better designs, alas, but sufficient for my purpose.

Now I knew I must be quick, and my timing precise. As thankful as he should be to be release from his banal existence, I couldn't let him slip away just yet.

It took an effort of concentration, but I was able to trap the soul within the shell. Now to wait. Yes, there it was already. The fish was striking at the bait, as it were.

And then from behind me: "Lokiah, release this soul." Death was possessed of a voice of such refined, and even seductive, raspiness.

"Not until you return what is rightfully mine," said I as I faced him.

"It was agreed. Upon your defeat, I reclaimed the Wraith."

"But I am not defeated, as my very presence plainly proves."

He pointed a bony finger at me. "You were banished."

"Ah, but I was banished because I _could not be_ defeated!"

I chuckled inwardly at my own clever argument as he stood as still as stone under that cloak. The maddening fact that he had no face denied me the pleasure of observing what would surely have been a very confounded and most amusing expression.

Yet, a second later, my patience was wearing thin — due to the fact that my hold on my bargaining piece was as well.

"Are we to stand here until the Realm turns to dust? I know how important is the order of your great list, and I tell you you will not have this soul until I have what is mine."

Finally, with a brusque flick of his bony wrist, a milky whiteness took shape between us. Immediately I gripped the air to hold a chain, on the other end of which was my prize.

In the same instant, as if by my will, I lost my hold on the poor soul. Death took his ward and was gone. There were only the two of us then, and quite a pair were Wraith and I.

"Wraith, my old friend, in an age long passed, you did serve me well. Will you serve Lokiah, Bringer of Chaos, once more?"

"I am given choice?"

I laughed. "Let us pretend so." But I knew my old companion; he would not disappoint.

"It has been a long time. You may indeed have need of me — if only to keep you from blundering in this new age."

"New age indeed," I couldn't help but mutter in derision.

"Yes, I serve Lokiah once more."

"Good!" How I had missed that haunting, whispery voice! I released him of his bonds. "Come, then, Wraith! Let us bestir ourselves!"


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III

Venger

Quakes, gales, fires, floods — these are all well and good, but one does tire of them after a time; though, the frightened screams of the panic-stricken, who, by nature, must fear death, do my dark heart much good. Alas, they did not hold my interest long. Manipulation of the elements is child's play, and mortals are quite capable of frightening one another on their own without magic. I was merely flexing my muscle.

But with each pernicious act, I felt my strength growing, growing, the more I summoned those energies I am so attuned to. There were times I had to stop myself breaking out into mad laughter in the rapture I felt at the forces surging through my being. For to have done so would have been regrettably unbecoming, don't you think?

But it was not mere ennui alone that now blackened my temperament. Understand that I had made no effort to hide myself from the peoples I terrorized. I would have them know me, fear me, _revere_me! Yet as winds howled and conflagrations roared, it was not my name they shouted in horror and rage, but another's.

"Venger!" they cried. "It is Venger! It must be!"

Must it? I sigh. Am I so forgotten? I snatched an old yet sturdy man from a crowd. "Do you know whom you look upon?" I demanded of him.

Wide-eyed, he managed to form the name that had already grown tiresome to my ears. "Venger!" he said.

"And have you ever, before this day, laid eyes on this fiend you name?" I asked. One can never be too careful with the utterances of names.

"I have!" Such contempt in his voice.

"And do I appear as he to you?"

The confusion in his eyes angered me, but I managed to quell that particular fire. This mortal was not worthy to bring such emotion from me.

"No," he answered at last. "But the Force of Evil has many faces! Who else could you be? Who else!" He seemed to be regaining his nerve. "Kill me and be done with it, then!"

I tossed him aside like the waste that he was.

Now, in the darkening twilight, I sit between forest and mountain, on the precipice of a great cliff, facing the dying of the day. Sulking? Perhaps. But listening to the Realm, and feeling the fear dawning in the hearts and minds of mortals as the suns set, one after the other. And as stars begin to glitter above, nocturnal creatures stir, but their euphony does not bring a smile to my face.

This "Venger" . . . he vexes me.

That another Dark power replaced me was to be expected. But in my experience, there is never room for two evils in the same realm, no matter how expansive that realm may be. Any alliance can only be temporary, and once the common goal is accomplished, one inevitably betrays the other. With surrender never an option amongst those of our ilk, we fight to the vanquishment. To kill one of our own only diminishes us all and is a direct act against our great master. Those who do not abide by this are the true fools. We are forever outnumbered by those who fight the "Good" fight, and are never served by destroying each other. It need not come to that. I can only hope Venger understands this.

Strangely, as I sit here now, I have no desire to kill him, no desire to oppose him at all. May I not be forced to change this position. But one of us _will_have to go. And I'd rather it not be me. Besides . . . I was here first.

I clad myself in black, befitting my mood. Looking skyward, I saw the two moons that had arisen earlier in the evening. In this season, Ites and Ororta arise and consummate their lovers' tryst before Thraxis appears, discovers his wife with his trusted friend, and chases both to their deaths.

Or some such nonsense.

I felt a familiar tickle of anticipation.

Ah! At last! The erstwhile Harbinger of Death approached!

As I waited, I played a game with myself as to from which direction he would come. Then I saw him on the lower lands opposite me. He soon crossed the great chasm like an errant cloud caught in a crosswind.

"Wraith! What news? Have you found him?"

He stopped before me, hovering just beyond the edge. "No, Master. But I found those from the circle. It is as you described. A group of seven — a child and young unicorn among them. They make camp beside a river. And, Master . . . they possess powerful magical items and weapons. An archer with a flaming arrow made fire. A young wizard provides for their camp."

I had almost forgotten them. Now my curiosity was peaked anew. Powerful weapons? I stood. "Take me to them."

* * *

Wraith led me to their camp, and we watched discreetly from the wood. I crouched and couldn't help but smile at the scene before us. All but two males were frolicking in the river. One, the wizard, safeguarded the weapons. The other looked to be a paladin, and soon he shed his shield and garb and jumped into the water with his laughing comrades. Ah, youth. . . .

Wraith had called the wizard "young," but I hadn't imagined them all to be as young as this. Only one of them, the youngest male, would I call a child. The others were old enough, but still rather young to be out adventuring on their own. And how had they come by their weapons? I surmised that their circumstances must be singular.

I counted them. Including the unicorn, I saw only six at first. But then . . . ah, but then, from below the water's surface emerged . . . a goddess! I watched her, enthralled.

"Look at her, Wraith! Flesh nigh as moonlight pale as mine own, eyes of refined jade set in polished moonstone, and hair of such rich amber flame as to light the dark of my soul!"

"Yes, Master."

It has always amazed me how quickly he can ruin a moment with his tone alone.

"'Yes, Master' indeed! Are you so far removed from the living that you cannot appreciate the beauty of woman?" I realized I was appreciating it more than I should, but it had been an eternity, after all.

"Perhaps. But to me, all are beautiful in death."

And then there are the moments when I'm reminded why he and I get along so well.

I would have let my gaze linger on the fair-skinned maiden, but movement blacker than the night stole my attention. "Wraith!"

"I see it, Master!"

And with that, Wraith and I were in pursuit of a shadow demon that had been spying upon the young ones' camp. Naturally, anyone with a magical weapon is bound to have a powerful enemy. No gift is without price. It would be most interesting to learn who commanded this Dark familiar. There were few who could. I could. And if Venger deserved half the people's dread of him, then surely he could as well.

It sped west as we followed, unseen. Through mountains and forests and over moonlit waters and lands we flew until a black fortress came into view.

"Hold, Wraith," I cautioned with a raising of my hand. "Mind his ward." We slowed and came to rest in the shadow of a distant crag. I leaned against rock and folded my arms at my chest, my foot propped behind me as I observed, noting the window entrance used by the shadow demon.

Looking to the grounds, I watched the gross green creatures milling about, sharpening swords and axes and braiding whips with thick, scarred fingers. I laughed, incredulous. "Doth mine eyes deceive me, Wraith, or are those _orcs_ accoutred in . . . _uniforms_?"

"They are, Master," confirmed my companion in a humoring tone.

"Perchance he believes it makes them smarter!" I said as I broke out into more laughter, which I soon stifled. This was _serious_, I reminded myself. I had yet to learn if, indeed, this was the lair of the reviled Venger.

"Remain here, my friend. I cannot promise to mask you through his defense. I shan't be long."

I leapt into the air. As a bat I swooped to the castle and around, taking its measure. I spied a nightmare as it felled an orc that had come too near it. I was at once amused at the scene below and struck by the nightmare's presence. A shadow demon, orcs, and now a nightmare! It all had me feeling rather covetous, though I've never felt I've needed more than my constant companion.

What does it say of one who commands a nightmare? I wonder . . . is it necessity, or vainglory?

As a lizard, I entered the same window as had the demon. There was no one in this room. Nothing but moldering tomes on dusty shelves, a sitting gargoyle, and fragments of bone. I crept through hallways, listening. A moth now, I flitted just below the ceiling, letting myself be pulled to lights until my senses found the light I could not ignore. And now a spider, I crawled along the ceiling of this room, my eight eyes surveying all as the creature spoke to his shadow demon as he stood at the edge of the largest seer's pool I had ever seen. Within it, I saw the young travelers I had only just left. This being looked down on my fair maiden in the center of the mystic waters. She was now clad in a dress, cloak, and high boots. So lovely. . . .

I turned my attention fully now to the Dark One. Throwing web, I moved round to have a proper look at him. No, no mere magus, this! I admit, he was more than I imagined. Old. Powerful. A striking figure dressed in the ancient fashion of sanguine and ebony, a single curved horn on the left of his head, an unnatural voice of rich and deep reverberations that issued forth through pure white fangs, and black wings of a devil broad upon his back. I could smell his power about him. And, if I tried, I could see the flow that fed him — the same power that fed me. Yet different. . . .

Yes, this was Venger. This was the one the people feared. He could be no other.

His face glowed with the pool's eldritch illumination. He spoke again. "'They _will pay_for destroying the Circle of Power!"

The Circle of Power? The circle in which _I_ was imprisoned! So those young ones _did_free me! Whether or not this was their intention did not concern me. They had done it, and that was enough. I should thank them at the least. I now had an excuse to make myself known to them, especially to the fair one.

"Do we attack, sire?" the shadow demon asked.

My mind filled with questions.

"No, Shadow Demon. The time is not right. Come."

What other reason could there have been for them to have destroyed the Circle _except_ to free me? For what purpose did they free me? Did they seek my aid against their enemy? Why, then, did they not stay to greet me? What did this Dark Power know of me? Had he been the attacker in the air, atop his nightmare? If he had indeed acted to prevent my release, why had _he himself_not remained or returned to finish me in my most vulnerable hour?

I was missing some vital element. But I would learn no more here. The pair had retreated to another part of the castle. I left as stealthily as I'd come.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV

History

"They are safe tonight. Let them sleep. I would see more of the Realm." My tone was flat, and so Wraith was respectfully quiet as he kept low beside me through the night sky. I recalled how the shadow demon had hovered _above _its master. Wraith had never committed such offense. I have come to allow his eyes level to mine, but never higher.

I could not get the image of Venger out of my mind. Venger, in his castle with his seer's pool. Venger, dressed in the proper fashion. Venger, with his nightmare and his shadow demon. Venger, with his black wings and single horn. . . .

I wondered whether or not the horn were actually attached to his skull. I wondered if his wings had purpose. I wondered if he had hair underneath his cowl.

I wondered . . . if I could best him in a duel.

_No, no, no, Lokiah!_

But now I arrived, drawn here to the day side of the Realm by nothing more insidious than nostalgia. I bade Wraith leave me, and so he obeyed. I then descended to the site of the largest of all the Lokianalias. How they had worshipped me in this place! The men painted their faces white and the women wore masks of every expression. The fires, the feasts, the wines, the sex. . . .

Oh, I speak of the festivals held in mine honour. You had something very much the similar: the Bacchanalia, in honour of Bacchus. Drunken, licentious revelry. Divine!

I look around, leaning against a sturdy old tree. It's all trees now. No room for the wild dances, the open coupling. Men raping men raping women raping women raping men. That's not to say there was no consent at all. There was _plenty _of that, be assured. I just found the more forceful means more invigorating.

Oh, yes, I attended many of these celebrations of me. Of course, why not? And on the rare occasion, I made myself known truly to them.

Very well, I confess, not so rarely. (You're coming to know me. Perhaps in time, you will love me as I love you.) Anyroad, the women and men alike did throw themselves at me with lust in their loins. And I can be quite insatiable for such attentions.

And so, in honour of carnal times past, I would set afire this invading forest — such a fire as to make the Master remember his servant! Magical fire danced on my fingertips like those long-ago revelers — jumping, twisting, turning, swaying—

"Oh, sir, I do wish you would not play with fire. You're likely to set the whole forest ablaze!"

"Well, that _is _the intention. But who speaks? Show yourself," I demanded as I stood properly and looked about.

"I do not hide; I have been here all the while, aiding your recumbence."

Now the wizened face in the bark turned to me. I had been leaning against a Know Tree! I closed my hand, withdrawing, for now, my little fire dancers.

"And I thank you," said I. "Know you who I am?"

"Of _course _I know," it answered, as though I had asked the simplest of a simpleton's questions. "You are Lokiah, widely called 'The Chaos Bringer' by those who are disinclined to speak your name."

I had to smirk at that. "And do you know the significance of this land where you have taken root?"

"Naturally. This is where the greatest number of Lokiants gathered for the Lokinalias."

"I would know what became of them."

"Very well. After your banishment, the Lokianalias continued for one hundred thirty-four years—"

"Only that!"

"Allow me to explain: The purpose of a Lokianalia changed when your absence became more widely felt. It became a time when men would battle each other to the death, the victors claiming to have either been bestowed your favor or invoked your very spirit.

"Some of these events were more organized and took the form of Dark religious ritual, certain women having been pre-selected to mate with the winner, or families having paid for their young daughters to have the honour of accepting the victor's seed. Most often, however, they were not so arranged. Women would kill each other for the chance to become pregnant by the winner, or women would aid other women in raping the champion. All this in the hope of your being reborn to them.

"Local tribe and clan leaders who condemned such activities tried to put an end to them, only to be killed, along with their entire tribes or clans, by the powerful magic-users amongst your worshippers."

"Brutal," I commented with keen interest. I was enthralled by the story.

"Oh, yes, it was that. And after three such massacres, the Celestial Knights intervened. They would descend on the Lokinalias on the backs of their war-birds and slay all in attendance, be they men, women, or children."

"What horror!" I hate I missed all that!

"Indeed! The remaining number of your followers worshipped you secretly as individuals or privately in small groups, until, five hundred seventy-one years after your banishment—"

"I faded from memory," I interrupted.

"Not exactly. You were forsaken shortly after the coming of Venger, and finally forgotten only in the aftermath of the War of Evils."

"_War of Evils_? Tell me of this!" Despite my not being a direct participant in this tale, this was one of the greatest stories I'd ever heard!

"As you wish. The War of Evils was fought between Venger and his twin sister, Kareena. Both served the same master and both craved the rule of the Realm. The war was brief, but baleful. The Realm was forever changed. Each power introduced alien races to serve as their spies and armies — Lizard Men, Bullywugs, and Orcs to name but a mere few.

"In the end, Venger won, taking Kareena's power and banishing her to the Hills of Never."

I waited a moment for him to continue, to fill in the gaps, but nothing more was forthcoming. "Well, go on."

"That is enough."

"It is not enough until I say it is enough. You leave out too much. Why did Venger spare Kareena's life? Was it because she was his sister, or because they served the same master? Did Venger add her power to his, or only strip her of hers? How is it that their master would choose to give them such power in the first place? And where was Dungeon Master during all this?"

"I do not speak of Dungeon Master," it said with finality.

"Oh very well. Then tell me next of the six young adventurers with the magical weapons."

"I do not speak of them, either," it said in the same tone. "Truth be told, I haven't spoken so much in one day in the whole of my existence!"

"If you tire, I will ask another Know Tree. Surely there are others in your forest."

"We are of a number here. But they will tell you no more than have I."

"They will, or your number here will be naught. Surely it is wiser to answer to my simple curiosity."

"But I _know _it is more than simple curiosity," he said with a cutting edge to his voice that had just assured his death.

"I tell you you will perish if you refuse me," I stated plainly.

"Then that is the fate we must accept." And with that, the face became inanimate.

For a moment, I was seething. _Seething! _But then I laughed. I couldn't stop myself. I laughed and laughed and laughed.

My fire dancers reduced the forest to ash.

I lay on my black cloud and twisted toward the star-filled sky. The old joy did not fill me at having destroyed something precious, as it should have. I could only think more of Venger. After what the Know Tree had told me, I found I was becoming perfectly obsessed with The Winged One.


End file.
